


Burning

by starling



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 16:09:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starling/pseuds/starling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and Arthur are attacked by a sorcerer while hunting, and Merlin is hit by a mysterious curse. Everything seems to go downhill from there, and Arthur learns something about Merlin that shouldn't be a surprise.  Set just after series 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning

  
Arthur always complained that Merlin was scaring off the prey, but Merlin knew that this bothered Arthur less and less every trip – a low success rate gave him the excuse to stay out for longer. Despite protests to the contrary, Arthur enjoyed taking Merlin with him for hunting: having the time to bully him helped Arthur to take his mind off his problems. This time it had even been Merlin's idea, bizarrely enough: Arthur had been so stressed lately as Prince Regent, and Merlin could tell he needed a break.

"Hey, idiot?" Arthur called out to Merlin from several feet ahead.

Merlin raised his head questioningly at Arthur. "You reacted!" crowed Arthur.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "You know, they say that talking to yourself is the first sign of madness."

There was a brief moment of friendly silence, while Merlin awaited Arthur's next offering. Surely enough: "Merlin, do you think character is influenced by your friends?"

What others might take as a deep and meaningful question, Merlin recognised for the set up it was. And still he took the bait, because Arthur looked so  _happy._  "I suppose so – I definitely think the Round Table –"

"Do you know a lot of idiots, then?"

A long-suffering sigh, as if Merlin was an absolute saint to put up with Arthur. "Just you, Sire."

And then, because nothing could ever go well for long, a man appeared from the trees up ahead. "I will have your head, Arthur Pendragon!" the man spat, and Merlin immediately tensed, ready to defend his prince.

The stranger was clothed all in black, and wore no recognisable crest. His clothes looked new, and the absurd thought that he had bought them specifically to look menacing for this moment flashed across Merlin's mind. He spoke with confidence and the promise of violence, but he didn't seem to have a weapon, so Merlin assumed that he was a sorcerer. To fight this man with magic he needed to conceal himself, so he did just that, ducking behind a large bush as Arthur drew his sword and went to confront the man.

The sorcerer said the words of a spell unfamiliar to Merlin, and Arthur must have been frozen in place by magic, because he was looking down at his feet in confusion, and barking out threats. Mercifully, he didn't turn to look for Merlin, all of his attention taken up by the enemy sorcerer.

The sorcerer clearly hadn't spotted Merlin, as he began to circle Arthur theatrically, gesticulating wildly as he spoke. "You and your father, with your hatred and ignorance, have brought a dark time upon Camelot. Users of magic have been persecuted cruelly, innocents have been slaughtered, children have been murdered. Well, I say no more. You are my prisoner now, and Uther will come for you. And when he does, I shall kill you both, and take the crown for myself." The sorcerer had walked all the way around him, so that Merlin crouched between Arthur and the oblivious sorcerer.

"The people will never follow you," Arthur declared, full of defiance.

"Perhaps not willingly," the stranger conceded, "But they will learn to fear me, and then they will follow."

Arthur shook his head fiercely, and replied, "The people will not fear you, as I do not fear you. You shall not prevail."

"You should fear me!" hissed the sorcerer, walking underneath a large tree. "I could crush you like  _this_  –" he hit the tree with the side of his fist for emphasis.

Merlin took his opportunity to eliminate the threat without alerting Arthur to the use of magic: he muttered a spell from his hiding place, and a branch fell from a tree, crushing the sorcerer. Merlin was dimly aware of Arthur behind him, laughing and exclaiming, "What a stroke of luck, eh Merlin? You can come out now." But Merlin's eyes were still on the dying man, who hissed "ælfsidenne" and pointed his hand towards Arthur, before slumping over in death.

It was as though fire had erupted from the sorcerer's hand, but it had none of the energy and brightness of natural fire. The flickering flames were black as death, and seemed to be taking, rather than giving, energy, in a twisted parody of ordinary fire levitating two feet off the ground. The hairs stood up on the back of Merlin's neck, as he felt an unnatural chill, and a deep fear gripped him. This was seriously dark magic, and the burning curse was headed with impressive speed towards Arthur, whose back was turned, calling out for Merlin. Merlin knew no defence against this curse, no shield that would block it, and Arthur seemed impossibly distant. He called out to Arthur, who didn't respond: he hadn't heard Merlin's warning. There was only really one thing he could do.

He jumped, and the terrifying darkness of the fire was upon him, until he was trapped inside his mind and all he could see was night and his bones were stone and his heart was burning with an icy cold pain and he was falling and falling –

 

\---

After what seemed to be an age of pain, Merlin awoke to find himself lying on the hard ground of the forest floor. The air felt fresh and clean and bright, and he could see the light of the sun through his closed eyelids. He sat up and blindly brushed leaves from his hair, trying to clear his head.

Merlin opened his eyes to see Arthur standing over him, arms folded and an unreadable expression on his face. "Alright, Merlin?" Arthur asked, an unfamiliar tightness to his voice, as though he were holding back a lot of emotion. He didn't offer Merlin a hand to help him up, but looked at him searchingly and a little coldly.

"Yeah, I think so," Merlin answered, a little dizzy, before standing up to face Arthur. "What  _was_  that?"

"Evil sorcerer, trying to take over Camelot. The usual." On closer inspection – was Arthur about to start crying? His eyes were certainly watering, and he was blinking a great deal.

"Oh. What happened then?"

"He's dead." There was a strange tension in the air, as if Arthur was hiding something. "We should get back to Camelot. We've been out long enough." Arthur's clipped tone carried a clear message:  _we're not going to talk about this, Merlin_. Merlin nodded his assent, and the two of them began walking towards Camelot, Merlin carrying Arthur's kills. He hadn't caught as much as he usually did, but Merlin supposed that after being attacked, it would be tempting fate to stay out hunting for the rest of the day.

They walked back to Camelot in an unusual silence, which Merlin did not break for once. Arthur seemed lost deep in his own thoughts, and Merlin had plenty to think of himself. It wasn't often that Merlin couldn't tell what Arthur was thinking, and it bothered him that Arthur was acting so strangely.

Again Merlin walked behind Arthur, who kept looking back at Merlin, as if to check he was still there. That was probably it, then. Merlin allowed himself a small smile – Arthur had been worried about him! Maybe he saw the smoke hit him, and worried when he passed out. Arthur was probably being so quiet because he was having one of those 'must not show emotion' moments, trying to deny that he cared.

Clearly there was nothing to worry about: the black smoke didn't seem to have affected Merlin at all. It must have been a spell crafted to harm only Arthur, or perhaps Merlin's magic made him immune to it. Perhaps the curse was just the intense pain he had felt for those moments, and there were no lasting effects. Merlin made a note to ask Gaius about it when he had a chance.

When they arrived they turned down the corridor to Arthur's rooms, as they always did after a hunt. However, when they walked past a pair of idle guards, Arthur stopped abruptly. Merlin looked up at Arthur, full of questions, but Arthur avoided his eyes.

"Arthur?" Merlin ventured. "Why have we stopped?"

Arthur ignored his question, but spoke instead to the guards. "Arrest him."

"What? Why?" The guards ignored Merlin's panicked protests, and each of them loosely gripped one of Merlin's arms.

"Take him down to the dungeons. I will question him myself later." With that Arthur turned and left, striding down the corridor and turning towards the throne room.

Merlin, still dazed and confused, allowed himself to be led away by the two guards. He considered escaping, briefly: hitting out with magic and running far, far away. He dismissed the thought, as he always did, reasoning that Arthur would explain this later. Then Merlin could come up with the appropriate excuse, and everything would go back to normal. Escaping would only make things worse, and suggest a guilty conscience, not to mention that he would have to either reveal his magic or kill the guards, both frightening options.

When they reached the dungeons, the two guards deposited him in a cell and locked him in. They looked sympathetic: clearly they thought that Arthur was just imprisoning his manservant out of some temporary fit of anger, and that he would be out soon. Merlin desperately wanted to agree with them, but this behaviour was very uncharacteristic of Arthur. He had a strangely serious expression on his face, which Merlin feared, because it could mean everything changing. He sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the wall, and prepared to wait.

 

\---

By the time Arthur returned, Merlin judged that he had been in the cell for most of the day. He had been brought food twice, but he was still hungry. He felt in need of sleep, but forced himself to stay awake: Arthur would come.

Merlin knew by the sight of Arthur's face that this was both very serious and very bad. Merlin stood to greet Arthur, who strode into the cell, locking the door behind him. When he spoke, it seemed forced, practiced even, and an image of Arthur in his room planning what to say rose unbidden in Merlin's mind. The thought unnerved him.

"You have been found guilty of practicing magic and enchantments in contravention to the laws of Camelot. Do you have anything to say in your defence?"

This has happened before, Merlin reminded himself, trying to remain calm. He had been accused of sorcery before, and he had always been able to talk his way out of it. Now couldn't be the time to reveal himself to Arthur – the fact that he was currently in a dungeon made that very clear to him. He wasn't ready to know; wasn't ready to understand.

"Under what evidence am I accused, Sire?" Merlin managed to ask, his voice shaking. He kept his eyes downcast, and he wasn't quite sure if this was because he was trying to look submissive, or if he just didn't have the strength to look Arthur in the eyes yet.

"My witness," Arthur replied. "I saw you, in the woods today. Using magic to break that tree branch."

Merlin felt it, then: his whole world falling apart. Arthur  _knew_. Arthur knew – and Arthur hadn't even given him a chance to  _explain_ , he'd just arrested him and probably already told Uther –

Merlin took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the conversation he'd been fearing for years. He looked Arthur in the eyes, determined to explain himself. "I was born with magic; it was never my choice."

Arthur seemed to ignore this revelation, and continued to speak, talking as he might talk to himself now. As if he were trying to make sense of things, without wanting Merlin to confuse him further. "I should have known you'd never suggest a hunt – it was just to get me out there. So your friend could kill me. Clearly you got cold feet at the last minute, or maybe you were trying to betray him so you could kill me yourself another time."

"I am loyal to you, Arthur, and you alone –"

"And yet you led me into a sorcerer's ambush?"

"Arthur – please – it wasn't like that at all – I was protecting you, Arthur, that's what I  _do_ , that's what it's  _for_  –"

"I've had enough of your  _lies_ , Merlin."

"Then I won't lie to you ever again, Arthur, I swear it! Anything you want to know, I will tell you the truth!"

Arthur seemed to consider this for a moment, before nodding. "Very well. How long have you been practicing magic?"

"Since I was born. I was using magic before I could talk."

"And how did you learn the spell I heard today?

"I have a book of magical spells. I learned it from that."

"Where did you get this book from?"

Merlin hesitated here, reluctant to implicate Gaius. But he had just sworn never to lie to Arthur again, hadn't he? He couldn't break that oath after mere minutes.

"A friend gave it to me when I arrived in Camelot."

"Which friend, Merlin?" Arthur asked, clearly growing impatient. He left Merlin no choice, now. He just had to trust that Arthur would not turn Gaius in.

Merlin closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath, desperately hoping that this was not a terrible mistake. "Gaius," he whispered.

"So you told Gaius. How many others did you share your secret with, Merlin?" Merlin saw it then, a flash of hurt. Arthur was angry about the magic, of course he was. But he was also angry that Merlin had kept secrets from him, that Merlin didn't trust him. This gave Merlin some small shred of hope: Arthur wanted Merlin's trust. Surely that meant that, somewhere inside, Arthur considered himself Merlin's friend?

"I didn't tell Gaius, he found out by accident."

"How many others  _know,_ Merlin? Give me names."

Merlin cursed his vow of honesty now, because Arthur was asking him to turn in his friends, people who had harboured a sorcerer. "Please don't ask this of me," he said, and looked Arthur in the eye, trying to convey his desperation.

"How many others, Merlin?" Arthur was determined, and took a step towards Merlin.

"Will you leave them alone, if you tell you?"

"How many others?" Arthur was getting close – too close – and Merlin stepped back and was pushed up against the wall –

"You can't punish other people for my crimes Arthur, just tell me that –"

"Merlin!" Now Arthur's forearm was pressed lightly against Merlin's neck, and Arthur had a dangerous glint in his eyes. Merlin was shaking with fear by now, resisting the urge to push Arthur off or use his magic. Maybe, if he laid his secrets bare, Arthur would trust him. He had the power to defend them, if it ever came to that. He closed his eyes for a moment, searching his memory, before replying in a hurried, quiet voice.

"My mother knew when I was a baby. Gaius found out when I arrived in Camelot. Lancelot knew because I helped him to defeat the griffin with magic. There's a boy called Gili who knows: I told him to try to convince him not to kill your father with magic in the last tournament. Everyone else who knew is dead, I think."

"Dead? You've killed to keep your secret?"

"No – never!" And then, because it had to be said, "I've killed to protect you, though. To save Camelot. And people have known, and then died, and I have been unable to save them."

Arthur nodded, withdrawing his arm, and seemed to think to himself for a moment. "Hunith, Gaius, Lancelot. Ealdor, Camelot, Camelot. I'll track down Gili too. Thank you Merlin; they shall all be executed for harbouring a sorcerer who has plotted against Camelot and against my life."

"No –" A broken gasp, followed by a pleading whisper. "Please, Arthur, no – "

Merlin fell to his knees, half because he was begging and half because he no longer had the strength to stand, and desperately bowed to Arthur. "I'll do anything – please – Arthur, I swear, I have only ever been loyal to you, always, they all knew that –"

Breathless, Merlin raised his head in time to see Arthur turn to leave. Arthur swept from the cell, and left Merlin kneeling on the floor, with tears only now escaping to run down his face.

 

\---

After the few minutes that it took for Merlin to regain some semblance of thought, he assessed his situation. Arthur knew, and Arthur hated him, and his family and friends were in danger. And Merlin realised that this time, he had nothing to lose.

His only choice was escape. He would have to move quickly, to warn Gaius and Lancelot to run before Arthur had time to arrest them. Then he would go to Ealdor to find his mother. He'd take them all somewhere safe, somewhere Arthur couldn't go after them. He might even try to track down Gili and warn him to use another name, because they had parted on good terms and Gili did not deserve to die.

And then, Merlin realised with a heavy heart, he would have to return to Camelot. He would have to keep protecting Arthur. Because of destiny and the promise of a great king who just wasn't quite there yet. Because however much Arthur hated Merlin, Merlin could never hate him in return. Surely Arthur would forgive him, in time. There were spells for invisibility, spells to change one's appearance. Merlin would find a way.

Merlin approached the lock on the door, and muttered, "Tóspringe." Nothing happened. "Get me out of here," Merlin muttered, before trying the spell again. "Tóspringe." Still nothing.

Merlin tried various tactics. He tried to blow the door off its hinges. Nothing. He tried to blast a hole through the wall. Nothing. He tried to dig a tunnel through the floor. Nothing.

Frustrated, Merlin removed his neckerchief and tried the basic magic of levitation that had never failed him before. To his horror: nothing.

Merlin slumped back against the wall and buried his face in his hands, distraught. The sorcerer's curse from that morning must have taken his magic; that was the only explanation. It had never failed him so thoroughly before.

And yet Merlin could feel something there, some deep sense of the magic in his bones. He called to it again throughout the night, desperately grasping; all words forgotten now. Just a wild plea to be out, to be free.

"Not going to use your magic, then?" Arthur was leaning on the wall inside the cell, and Merlin could not even recall him entering. This time, Merlin did not rise to meet him, but remained slumped on the ground, eyes downcast.

"The sorcerer from this morning – he aimed a curse at you. I took it for you. I think it's blocked my magic; maybe forever."

"Pity. You could have been useful."

Merlin looked up at that, and the hope he couldn't help but feel stung because he knew, really, that he was not forgiven. Arthur seemed to read the hope in Merlin's eyes, because he continued, "You've lied to me so much, you're worth nothing as a friend any more."

Merlin's turned his head away from Arthur, upset but no longer surprised.  _Any more_ , some desperate part of Merlin's mind repeated. He understood Arthur, for a moment there. Arthur had been betrayed by Merlin, as he saw it, who was probably the person he trusted most. Merlin had known Arthur completely, and Arthur had thought that he knew Merlin in return, mostly. So he was hiding his hurt the only way he knew how: aggression.

"But now it seems you're also worth nothing as a sorcerer. I was hoping, when I threatened your conspirators, I'd get to see some of your power. The king would never agree to it, of course, but I'm not my father. I thought it might be good for Camelot to have a magic user in our control, to defend against magical attacks. I'll confess I'm a little disappointed.

"Anyway, I'm here to bring you news. Gaius is in prison; I thought it best to run his execution past Father, since they were friends. But Gaius has betrayed my father, so I'm sure that he will condone his execution soon enough. He may even be dead already; you've been shouting at the wall for a long time."

Merlin didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the irony, but now it seemed he was hoping for Uther's mercy, in the face of Arthur's tyranny. He had always thought it would be the other way round. But knowing Uther's hatred of magic and loose grip on his senses, he doubted that he would put up much of a fight. Gaius would die, and Merlin hated himself for it.

"I went to arrest Lancelot too. Did it quietly, since he's built a pretty good reputation for himself already and I've got no real proof except the word of a sorcerer. He was just in the armoury with Gwaine after practice when I went in with the guards. Gwaine tried to defend him, before he knew a thing. So much for his oath of loyalty. Even when I told him the reason for Lancelot's arrest, Gwaine kept fighting. They were going to try to break you out."

Merlin half smiled at that: the proof that Gwaine was a loyal friend was at least something. But his smile didn't last long, as Arthur continued. "They were both tired from practice and Gwaine was almost certainly drunk, so they didn't put up much of a fight. They both died in the struggle, so I'm afraid your execution will be a rather lonely affair. You'll live until dawn, Merlin."

And with that Arthur turned to leave. But Merlin was determined not to sit in the cell mourning his friends, and passively allowing himself to be executed. Seeing Arthur leaving, Merlin rose silently. When Arthur turned the key in the lock, and stepped out of the cell, Merlin ran for the door, attempting to barrel past Arthur.

But Merlin was too slow, and Arthur was stronger than him. Arthur grabbed Merlin's arm and pulled it back with force, twisting it behind Merlin's back and slamming his face up against the stone wall of the cell with his other hand.

"Nice try,  _Mer_ lin," Arthur hissed in his ear, and the familiar inflexion killed Merlin, because it was so  _Arthur_. And he would never hear Arthur speak to him as a friend again, or even as a servant: now he was only a sorcerer and a prisoner.

"Please," Merlin whispered. "You're not like this, Arthur."

"Yes," Arthur growled. "I am. You are the one with magic, you are the one who has betrayed me. You're evil; you're a monster."

"No – I'm sorry –" Merlin began, but Arthur twisted his arm up further and he lost the thread of his thought, crying out in pain.

"You will not escape," Arthur said, and Merlin couldn't tell if it was an order or a threat. Either way, he was beginning to believe it. "At dawn, you will be burnt at the stake."

Merlin thought he felt Arthur's grip loosening, as if Arthur was about to leave him. But then he heard Arthur gasp, and though Merlin's head was released and his arm was allowed to drop a little, Arthur's fingers clenched on to Merlin's wrist tighter than ever. Merlin twisted his neck awkwardly, to see Morgana standing behind Arthur, beautiful as ever and with a cruel smirk on her face.

 

\---

"Morgana," Arthur spat, and turned his head to face her. His grip remained tight on Merlin's wrist, and Merlin found himself seeking out the open door with his eyes. Arthur only had to lose concentration for a moment, and then Merlin would be out of that door, straight out of Camelot and running all the way to Ealdor if he had to. He could still save his mother.

"Arthur," Morgana replied, a mocking lilt to her voice.

"What are you doing here?"

"Good to see you too,  _brother_. I'll be queen again by the end of the month, and this time, I thought I'd get rid of  _you_  before you had the chance to stop me."

The last part seemed almost addressed at Merlin, although Arthur's hand on the back of his head meant that he couldn't see her clearly. He twisted in an attempt to escape Arthur's grip, but it was fruitless. Arthur held him tightly, even as he spoke defiant words to Morgana, full of the courage that Merlin had always admired.

"You saw what happened last time. The people were never loyal to you. I'll stop you again, or someone else will."

Morgana laughed at that, and Arthur looked as confused as Merlin felt. "You think you stopped me? You think your band of knights has managed to achieve anything at all?"

"What are you saying?"

"Arthur, it was Merlin. He has magic, and he's betrayed his own kind by siding with you. It's caught up with him now though, because his magic's deserted him and so I'm free to dispose of you."

Noticing the open door, Morgana closed and locked it with a casual spell. She flicked her wrist and another spell rolled off her tongue, flinging Arthur across the room. He hit the wall with force but still managed to stay on his feet, looking confused and dizzy.

Merlin, released by Arthur, shook out his aching arm and turned to face Morgana properly. "So you know," he managed to say.

"Mordred told me," she answered. "It should have been you."

"I'm sorry," Merlin said, sincerely. "I wanted to tell you –"

"But you didn't. So." And Morgana turned to face Arthur, and seemed about to cast a spell. Merlin stepped towards Morgana and held his hands out in a vain pacifying gesture.

"Don't hurt him. Please."

"Why do you still defend him?" Morgana asked, her lip curling in a sneer to cover up the genuine confusion Merlin recognised. Even now, she felt betrayed, because he would always choose Arthur over her.

"This is some kind of plot to gain my trust," Arthur said, seeming to be speaking to himself as much as to Merlin and Morgana. "I know you're working together; I won't fall for it."

Merlin ignored Arthur's words, hurtful as they were, his mind spinning with the effort of trying to find an answer to Morgana's question. Once he would have said, 'Because he will be a great king,' or 'Because he has it in his heart to accept magic, one day,' or even, 'Because he's my friend.' But Merlin was finding all of those things difficult to believe right now.

"Because he is my prince," Merlin answered quietly. He would serve Arthur until his dying day, and that was a decision he had made a long time ago.

"I'm not  _your_  anything, Merlin," Arthur snapped. "Not any more."

"Then because he's Arthur," Merlin replied to Morgana. "Because he has something great in him, and because he will rule Camelot better than you ever could."

Arthur made a sound as if he were about to say something, and Merlin had to fight the urge to turn and look at him because Morgana was smirking and raising her hand, and Merlin had to be ready for her.

"He will never rule Camelot," Morgana said dismissively, "because he will die today."

Merlin stepped in front of Arthur, prepared to die defending him. He felt Arthur's hand on his back, attempting to push him away, but Arthur didn't really mean it. If he meant it, Merlin would not have had the strength to hold his ground against Arthur, not without magic.

"You won't, though," Morgana continued, almost casually. "I think I'll let Uther burn you, because I'd like to be able to tell him, later, that he had Camelot's last hope burnt at the stake. There's a nice irony there, don't you think?"

Merlin opened his mouth to retort, but Morgana breathed the words of a spell unfamiliar to Merlin's ears and his mouth clamped shut of its own accord. He was frozen in position. He tried to speak, to move a finger, to raise an eyebrow, but he was completely helpless. His body seemed to be holding itself up of its own will, though: he was still standing, still blinking. Still breathing, for now.

Arthur stepped past Merlin and towards Morgana, sword in hand and a look on his face that showed confidence in his victory. Of course he was confident: he had always been victorious before. Merlin wished that he could speak, so that he could tell Arthur that his previous victories were almost all Merlin. Not so that he could get the credit, not even mostly so that Arthur wouldn't kill him. Just because then Arthur wouldn't try to fight her, because this wasn't a fight that could be won without Merlin's magic.

Arthur advanced on Morgana, but she lazily muttered another spell and the sword went flying out of his hand. Merlin instinctively moved to fetch it for Arthur, but Morgana's spell still held him bound. He tried to summon it with magic, out of habit rather than anything else. Nothing, still.

Arthur was almost helpless without his sword, but his voice was steady as he spoke. "Morgana," he began. "You should know –"

But Merlin never knew what Arthur was about to say, because Morgana spoke the words of another spell, and Arthur crumpled lifeless to the ground.

 

\---

"Morgana," Arthur spat, and turned his head to face her. His grip remained tight on Merlin's wrist, and Merlin found himself seeking out the open door with his eyes. Arthur only had to lose concentration for a moment, and then Merlin would be out of that door, straight out of Camelot and running all the way to Ealdor if he had to. He could still save his mother.

"Arthur," Morgana replied, a mocking lilt to her voice.

"What are you doing here?"

"Good to see you too,  _brother_. I'll be queen again by the end of the month, and this time, I thought I'd get rid of  _you_  before you had the chance to stop me."

The last part seemed almost addressed at Merlin, although Arthur's hand on the back of his head meant that he couldn't see her clearly. He twisted in an attempt to escape Arthur's grip, but it was fruitless. Arthur held him tightly, even as he spoke defiant words to Morgana, full of the courage that Merlin had always admired.

"You saw what happened last time. The people were never loyal to you. I'll stop you again, or someone else will."

Morgana laughed at that, and Arthur looked as confused as Merlin felt. "You think you stopped me? You think your band of knights has managed to achieve anything at all?"

"What are you saying?"

"Arthur, it was Merlin. He has magic, and he's betrayed his own kind by siding with you. It's caught up with him now though, because his magic's deserted him and so I'm free to dispose of you."

Noticing the open door, Morgana closed and locked it with a casual spell. She flicked her wrist and another spell rolled off her tongue, flinging Arthur across the room. He hit the wall with force but still managed to stay on his feet, looking confused and dizzy.

Merlin, released by Arthur, shook out his aching arm and turned to face Morgana properly. "So you know," he managed to say.

"Mordred told me," she answered. "It should have been you."

"I'm sorry," Merlin said, sincerely. "I wanted to tell you –"

"But you didn't. So." And Morgana turned to face Arthur, and seemed about to cast a spell. Merlin stepped towards Morgana and held his hands out in a vain pacifying gesture.

"Don't hurt him. Please."

"Why do you still defend him?" Morgana asked, her lip curling in a sneer to cover up the genuine confusion Merlin recognised. Even now, she felt betrayed, because he would always choose Arthur over her.

"This is some kind of plot to gain my trust," Arthur said, seeming to be speaking to himself as much as to Merlin and Morgana. "I know you're working together; I won't fall for it."

Merlin ignored Arthur's words, hurtful as they were, his mind spinning with the effort of trying to find an answer to Morgana's question. Once he would have said, 'Because he will be a great king,' or 'Because he has it in his heart to accept magic, one day,' or even, 'Because he's my friend.' But Merlin was finding all of those things difficult to believe right now.

"Because he is my prince," Merlin answered quietly. He would serve Arthur until his dying day, and that was a decision he had made a long time ago.

"I'm not  _your_  anything, Merlin," Arthur snapped. "Not any more."

"Then because he's Arthur," Merlin replied to Morgana. "Because he has something great in him, and because he will rule Camelot better than you ever could."

Arthur made a sound as if he were about to say something, and Merlin had to fight the urge to turn and look at him because Morgana was smirking and raising her hand, and Merlin had to be ready for her.

"He will never rule Camelot," Morgana said dismissively, "because he will die today."

Merlin stepped in front of Arthur, prepared to die defending him. He felt Arthur's hand on his back, attempting to push him away, but Arthur didn't really mean it. If he meant it, Merlin would not have had the strength to hold his ground against Arthur, not without magic.

"You won't, though," Morgana continued, almost casually. "I think I'll let Uther burn you, because I'd like to be able to tell him, later, that he had Camelot's last hope burnt at the stake. There's a nice irony there, don't you think?"

Merlin opened his mouth to retort, but Morgana breathed the words of a spell unfamiliar to Merlin's ears and his mouth clamped shut of its own accord. He was frozen in position. He tried to speak, to move a finger, to raise an eyebrow, but he was completely helpless. His body seemed to be holding itself up of its own will, though: he was still standing, still blinking. Still breathing, for now.

Arthur stepped past Merlin and towards Morgana, sword in hand and a look on his face that showed confidence in his victory. Of course he was confident: he had always been victorious before. Merlin wished that he could speak, so that he could tell Arthur that his previous victories were almost all Merlin. Not so that he could get the credit, not even mostly so that Arthur wouldn't kill him. Just because then Arthur wouldn't try to fight her, because this wasn't a fight that could be won without Merlin's magic.

Arthur advanced on Morgana, but she lazily muttered another spell and the sword went flying out of his hand. Merlin instinctively moved to fetch it for Arthur, but Morgana's spell still held him bound. He tried to summon it with magic, out of habit rather than anything else. Nothing, still.

Arthur was almost helpless without his sword, but his voice was steady as he spoke. "Morgana," he began. "You should know –"

But Merlin never knew what Arthur was about to say, because Morgana spoke the words of another spell, and Arthur crumpled lifeless to the ground.

 

\---

"Merlin?" A voice seemed to be calling from above, sounding something like Arthur's, but Merlin was only hearing things because Arthur lay on the cold stone floor, eyes unseeing and lips frozen in a grimace of hatred, dead dead –

Morgana turned to Merlin, her eyes full of hatred, but he couldn't look up, couldn't look anywhere except at Arthur. There was no wound, no mark upon him: he could have been sleeping. He could be unconscious - this was Arthur, he was  _always_ unconscious, he would wake up, of course he would -

"I hope you realise that this is your fault," Morgana hissed, gesturing towards Arthur's body - no, towards  _Arthur_. "You could have stopped this. If you had helped me, taught me, rather than pushing me away and poisoning me. I might have stayed in Camelot. Remained loyal to Arthur, although I can see from your situation how well  _that_ would have gone. But you lied to me and you betrayed me, and I don't need you any more."

"I tried to help," Merlin choked out, defending himself almost automatically, surprised to realise that he could speak. He tried to step forward, but found himself still held in place. So the spell hadn't failed: this was deliberate. What did Morgana want him to say? "I kept your secret. I led you to the druids. I saved your life, so many times, even after you returned from Morgause. Morgana, you must know that I do - I never wanted -"

Merlin trailed off there, unsure of what to say. How could he possibly explain himself? Morgana narrowed her eyes, and Merlin could tell she didn't believe him. "Then this is more your fault than I knew," she said dismissively. Merlin wondered then, if he should have listened to the dragon and let her die. He couldn't though, could he? She was  _Morgana_ , who came with him to save Ealdor, who insulted Arthur and stood up to Uther and was best friends with her maidservant. But she was also Morgana who had just killed Arthur, and he realised with a shock that if he had his magic, he'd strike her down like he had Nimueh.

"Mordred told me about how the druids thought you were Emrys. As if you could bring magic back, so hopelessly devoted to Arthur. He was blind and filled with hatred; every bit Uther's son. I'll wait until he executes you, and then Uther will die next. Then I will be queen in Camelot, and those with magic will be shown the respect they deserve. I think I'll kill Gwen, after she betrayed me last time. Probably all the knights too; they were  _very_  stubborn. Goodbye, Merlin. Have a nice death."

Morgana's words cut him like knives, and Merlin was about to speak, some plea for Gwen: 'She was your  _friend_ , Morgana,' but he never had the time. Morgana cast a spell and vanished, and Merlin was left alone in the locked cell. He felt himself released by her spell as she left, and ran to kneel beside Arthur, desperately feeling for a pulse.

There was nothing. Arthur really was dead.

Merlin remained bent over Arthur's body for some time, desperately holding him close, no longer trying to hold back the tears. He mumbled useless healing spells, even though there were no wounds to heal and Arthur was already dead and Merlin's magic still lost. He wouldn't accept it. He couldn't.

It was soon dawn, and two guards came into the dungeons. Finding a living Merlin and a dead Arthur, they ignored Merlin's protests and warnings of Morgana's imminent return, and surmised that the man recently accused by the prince of sorcery had killed his master as one final act of revenge. Arthur was torn away from him, and Merlin was chained and taken for his execution.

A huge crowd had turned out, speaking in rushed whispers, rumours flying on the wind. 'The prince's manservant, that's right.' 'A sorcerer; that's what they're saying.' 'He killed the prince? Really?' 'He was always by his side, guess the prince saw him doing magic, tried to kill him to keep him quiet.' 'But he always seemed so  _nice_.' 'That's the thing about sorcerers. They look human, but they're not. They're monsters.' 'Who'll be the heir now, with the prince gone?' 'Who knows? Nobody will ever be as good. Some nobleman, I suppose.' 'Does Uther have any other children?' 'Only the Lady Morgana, and he'd never invite  _her_ to be his heir.' 'She may well invite herself.'

Gaius was not there. He was not standing in the crowd as the Court Physician, but nor was he burning besides Merlin for harbouring a sorcerer. Still imprisoned, then. Unless - unless he was already gone. Merlin saw Gwen standing at the front, her face stained with tears – he could not tell whether they were for him or for Arthur. Surely she thought him a murderer now. He tried to speak as he passed her, to warn her of Morgana's threat, but he was unable to form the words.

Merlin was tied to the stake with strong ropes. Uther did not appear to give his customary speech against sorcery: he would, Merlin realised with a shock, be inside, grieving the loss of his son and heir. Because Arthur was  _dead_. Sir Leon came to the castle balcony instead, and began to speak with only a slight tremor in his voice. "Merlin of Ealdor," he began, "You have been found guilty of practicing the forbidden art of magic. You have murdered, and in seeking the life of the heir to the throne, you have committed high treason. As just punishment for these crimes, you shall be burnt at the stake until dead."

Sir Leon had spoken to the crowd, but he now turned to face Merlin. He looked at him searchingly, as if trying to judge how the Merlin he had known could be reconciled with a murdering sorcerer. "Morgana," Merlin managed to choke out, desperately trying to communicate with Sir Leon. "There's a sword in a stone, near the Lake of Avalon. It can kill magical beasts and immortal armies, and without it you'll never beat her." Sir Leon's face was unreadable, and he gave no sign of having heard Merlin speak. Someone must have done, though, because the whispers were already running through the crowd. Someone would remember, when Morgana returned, someone would think that it was at least worth a try -

Except. Merlin berated himself now, because he realised the spell he had cast to place the sword in the stone. So that Merlin could remove it with magic, or anyone with stronger magic than him (nobody.) And he left another way of getting the sword, in case he died. Arthur could remove the sword. He had never thought that he would outlive Arthur - the idea had always seemed unnatural to him, because  _surely_  he would die to protect Arthur. He had been a fool, and Camelot would surely fall.

They tied him to the stake and lit the pyre as the sun rose in the distance. The flames licked at his feet, but the wood took a while to catch. It had clearly rained while he was inside the dungeon. Despite everything, the instinct of self preservation remained strong. Merlin didn't want to die. He still muttered spells – spells to call down rain, spells to loosen ropes, even a risky teleportation spell Gaius had warned him never to attempt. Nothing worked, and there he was – burning for the magic that had deserted him.

In a day and a night, everything had been lost. Arthur hated him – Arthur was  _dead_ – Gaius, his mother, his magic, his destiny; all gone. And now he was dying. To think that he had woken up the previous morning with a spring in his step.

The flames reached up, and Merlin's trousers caught on fire.  _Liar, liar_ , he thought to himself, and made a sound that was half laughter and half sob. He reached for his magic one last time, and he felt it then, the magic rising up within him. It had returned; he felt it! He opened his mouth to cast a spell to save himself, but he choked on the smoke; he was too late. Then the heat was upon him properly, and all his thoughts of Arthur and of escape were lost in a wordless scream of pain and fire and death.

 

\-------

When the sorcerer slapped the tree, and caused the branch to fall on him, crushing him, Arthur couldn't hold back his laughter. There he was, a powerful sorcerer with the Prince of Camelot at his mercy, brought down by a self-inflicted tree branch to the back. Was that ironic? Arthur wasn't sure, but it was  _definitely_  funny.

"What a stroke of luck, eh Merlin? You can come out now." Arthur turned around, looking for his manservant, who he assumed had hidden when the sorcerer appeared. Arthur was glad Merlin had the sense to stay back – if he was to be killed, he certainly didn't want to take Merlin with him.

"Come on," he called out again. No response. Odd – it was like Merlin to hide, but it certainly wasn't like Merlin to run. Merlin didn't leave him, Merlin always stayed – that's what Merlin was  _for_ –

Arthur turned back around, muttering under his breath something he didn't quite mean any more about cowardly, incompetent servants, before the sight before him threatened to stop his heart.

The sorcerer lay unmoving on the ground, but a creeping darkness that screamed 'magical curse' had sprung from his hand, aimed at him, and Merlin – stupid, brilliant, ridiculously loyal Merlin – had moved in front to take the blow.

"No!" Arthur called out too late, and Merlin was swallowed up by the flickering darkness. A terrifying and raw scream of pain escaped from Merlin's lungs before he slumped to the ground, unmoving. "No, no, no –" Arthur babbled, because this couldn't happen, Merlin couldn't be _dead,_ it wasn't  _fair –_

Arthur strode to the sorcerer's side and thrust his sword into the man's heart, resolving to never again make the mistake of assuming an enemy to be dead. He sheathed his bloody sword, and rushed to Merlin's side, full of desperate hope and fierce denial.

Repeating Merlin's name like a prayer, Arthur placed a hand at Merlin's neck. His own heart was pounding, but he eventually recognised a pulse that was not his own and sighed in relief. He checked Merlin all over, and found no sign of physical injury. He shook his shoulder gently. "Wake up," he muttered. "Come on, idiot, wake up."

Merlin was completely unresponsive. The curse hadn't - he would wake up. Surely. Gaius could fix him. Arthur carefully lifted Merlin into his arms, and began the long walk back to Camelot.

When he arrived in Camelot, Arthur headed directly for Gaius's chambers, still carrying Merlin. He had hoped to find Gaius there when he arrived, but the rooms were empty. Arthur deposited Merlin onto his own bed in his small and featureless room, stepping over various items of clothing strewn on the floor as he did so.

Arthur returned to the corridor and approached a pair of guards, who straightened their backs as he came nearer. "Find Gaius, please," he instructed them. "Tell him to come to his chambers at once, for an urgent patient."

The guards nodded, and headed off to seek out Gaius. Unsure of what to do, Arthur returned to wait in Gaius's chambers. After a few minutes of restless pacing, Arthur found himself seated in a wooden chair beside Merlin's bed, still shaking with adrenaline and fear.

"You shouldn't have done that, Merlin," Arthur said, feeling ridiculous for talking to an unconscious man but somehow unable to stop. "If the cure's something difficult, like the Morteus flower, then Father will never let me go. I'll have to sneak out again. If I was cursed, he'd send all the best knights to save me. Then again, they wouldn't have me. The Round Table could pull it off though, I suppose. Still, though. You're ridiculous."

Arthur heard the sound of the door between Gaius's chambers and the corridor opening, and recognised the following slow footsteps as Gaius's. He stood up and walked towards Gaius, dreading the conversation they were about to have.

"Arthur," Gaius began. "I was told it was urgent. Where is my patient?"

"Merlin and I were hunting," Arthur began, suddenly nervous. "A sorcerer attacked us and I turned my back before he was dead. He tried to curse me but Merlin –" Arthur forced himself to press on and ignore the growing realisation in Gaius's eyes. "Merlin took the curse for me, and he's been unconscious ever since."

Gaius nodded. "Where is he?"

"On his bed," Arthur replied.

"Then I will examine him. Can you tell me anything about the curse? I may be able to identify it."

"It was... there was something dark. Like smoke. It was like it went in to him. I thought he was on fire, for a moment, but there was no light, nor any warmth that I could feel. I wish I could tell you more."

Gaius nodded, and began walking briskly towards Merlin's room with an energy Arthur had rarely seen from him. "Thank you for your help, Sire. I'll see what I can do."

And then, because Arthur recognised a dismissal when he heard one, he thanked Gaius and went on his way.

 

\---

It wasn't until Arthur passed a smiling Gwen in a corridor later that afternoon that he realised that Gaius wasn't the only person who needed to be told of Merlin's condition. He doubled back to speak to her, and she seemed to understand that he needed to talk privately, because she wordlessly gestured towards an empty room.

The two of them slipped inside, and Arthur locked the door behind them. Gwen looked at him curiously, and Arthur took a deep breath.

"I should tell you that Merlin has been cursed," he said, deciding to start with the worst part. He'd have to get this over with quickly, because once the thought of Gwen being there to support him entered his mind, he couldn't bear to keep Merlin's state from her. Somehow, once Gwen knew, things would be so much easier to bear.

Arthur continued to speak over Gwen's shocked gasp. "We were hunting, and there was a sorcerer. I couldn't fight him, but he... well, he sort of killed himself accidentally. But first he cast a spell, aimed at me. Merlin jumped in front, and passed out. I took him to Gaius, who's going to look for a cure."

Gwen nodded, looking worried but remaining calm. "So there might be a cure," she said, almost to herself and with a determined half smile upon her face.

"There might be a cure," Arthur repeated numbly, bringing one hand up to rest on the back of his head. He felt lighter already, his spirits lifted by Gwen's optimism.

"You should rest," Gwen suggested, and then, suspiciously: "Have you eaten since you returned?"

"No; I wasn't hungry. Anyway, I haven't got time. Lancelot and Gwaine should know; they're both good friends with Merlin. I have to find them."

"Go and eat, Arthur," Gwen scolded. "I'll find Lancelot and tell him, just leave it to me. You focus on eating. Just because Merlin's not looking after you doesn't mean you can wander round hungry all day."

"Yes,  _mother,_ " Arthur teased, but his smile was grateful and when he kissed Gwen on the lips it was warm and sincere.

When he left Gwen, Arthur sat down to lunch in his chambers. He ate quickly, keen to get out of the chambers that didn't feel like home without Merlin's presence. He had heard no news of Merlin, and was very uncomfortable indeed with the feeling of helplessness. Only Gaius could help, and all Arthur could do was hope for success. So he was determined to at least achieve  _something_  that day, even if it was only sore muscles and a slight improvement in his footwork. Arthur rose from his table and went to train in his hunting clothes, not having the heart to call anyone but Merlin to dress him in his armour.

When Arthur arrived on the training field, it was empty. That was a good thing, Arthur realised, because he didn't want to be fighting his own knights while he was in this mood. He might hurt someone, and he didn't want any other patients distracting Gaius's attention from Merlin.

Arthur hacked away at a practice dummy for hours, until his arm was aching and he was short of breath. The sky was a clear, deep blue, and the sun shone down relentlessly. When his arm was too limp to even grip his sword, he took his sword in his left hand and continued as before.

When the sun was low in the sky, a guard came with a message for Arthur. "Gaius says that he knows the curse your manservant suffers, Sire. He thought you would wish to know."

Arthur muttered a quick thanks, and sped towards the castle, racing for Gaius's chambers and leaving the confused guard behind on the practice field holding Arthur's sword.

"Gaius!" Arthur called when he entered the rooms, still panting. "Will he be alright?"

"The spell is very dark magic, Sire," Gaius answered. "I believe it is a curse designed to trap the victim in a dream world, created by his own mind. On the outside, Merlin will appear unconscious and be totally unresponsive, but in his mind he will think that his life is continuing. He will then suffer a terrible nightmare, and believe his worst fears to be realised. After a day, maybe two, he will die in the vision presented to him by the curse, and he will also die in the real world."

Arthur staggered at the implications. "What's the cure?" Gaius looked down. "There is a cure?"

Gaius shook his head sadly, and Arthur felt like the ground had vanished from under his feet. "People have been known to survive this curse in the past, but it is very rare and unpredictable. There is nothing we can do, except wait, and hope, that Merlin wakes. If he does wake, he will be physically fine, although his mind may well be damaged beyond repair."

Arthur nodded. He glanced towards the closed door of Merlin's room, and opened his mouth to speak, although he wasn't quite sure what he was about to say. Perhaps, then, it was good that Gaius interrupted him.

"Sire, I should say... If Merlin wakes, I think it could go badly if you were there. Merlin might panic and do something drastic. You should probably stay out of his room for the next two days, just in case."

Arthur nodded, confused but not about to question Gaius, who clearly knew something Arthur didn't. Gaius was hiding something, but Arthur trusted that he would have his reasons, and would have Merlin's best interest at heart. "Thank you, Gaius," he said, and left the room.

 

\---

'His worst fears realised', Arthur mentally repeated Gaius's words to himself throughout dinner. He ate alone, since his father was not well and Morgana – Well. Morgana was gone now. Arthur would usually have had Merlin there, but he had dismissed the servant who had brought his meal. He was beginning to wonder if it was a mistake to sit alone with his thoughts like this, because all his thoughts were of Merlin.

Arthur tried to think what Merlin was afraid of, but found it hard to come up with much. Obviously Merlin hid whenever there was trouble, but he didn't usually seem afraid: just aware of his own uselessness in a fight and unwilling to become a liability. In Ealdor Merlin had fought like any other man, he had ridden to face the dragon with Arthur, he had come of his own accord on the quest for the Fisher King's trident. He had just jumped in front of a potentially deadly curse for Arthur. It was a problem, really, Merlin's completely unwarranted courage.

It was probably something happening to Merlin's mother; he certainly cared for her a great deal. Maybe Ealdor burning down, or being attacked again, while Merlin was in Camelot. Merlin receiving news of it when it was too late to help. Something mundane, yet horrifying.

No. Merlin would have to be there, visiting his mother, when it happened. Gaius did say that the vision usually ended in death, which was real. Arthur's throat tightened at the thought of Merlin's death, something he couldn't quite understand. How could Merlin die? How could the world go on, if Merlin were dead?

Arthur's thoughts drifted, and he wondered what he would see before his death, had Merlin not been so stupidly loyal and taken the curse for him. What was Arthur afraid of? If anyone ever asked him, he would have confidently replied, "Nothing." But in his own thoughts, he knew that this was not true.

Arthur thought back on his life so far. What had been the worst moment? When Morgana had crowned herself queen, and imprisoned his father, without a doubt. He'd lost all hope, and if Merlin hadn't been there to snap him out of it, he would have fallen apart completely.

But when he really thought about it, the worst part wasn't the hopelessness, or the thought that he had failed. It was the betrayal. The thought that Morgana was his sister: his father had been unfaithful to his mother, and then lied about it. Some of Arthur's teenage thoughts had been even more inappropriate than he had ever suspected, and they – there was that time they almost – Arthur shuddered to think of what nearly happened at the feast of Beltane one year. What Uther nearly let happen – what Arthur had thought Uther was encouraging!

But it was also that Morgana – someone he trusted, someone who he thought trusted him – had concealed so much from him, and hated him and their father so much. That hurt him a lot. And he concluded that a betrayal on the same scale, from everyone, would be the worst thing that could happen.

Images flashed through his mind of the past, times when he thought he had been betrayed. When he thought his father had used magic in his conception. When he thought Gwen had chosen Lancelot over him. In Ealdor, when for a terrifying moment he thought Merlin had magic. None of those were true, of course, but if they were – that would be Arthur's worst fear. That much betrayal would destroy him, surely.

Arthur finished his meal, and began to pace his room. What would he normally be doing now? Surely not planning out how his worst nightmare would go. Probably flinging insulting words and random objects at Merlin, and trying not to laugh at his comebacks.

Arthur collapsed into his bed, deciding to take Gwen's advice and rest. He slept fitfully, and his dreams and waking thoughts were both full of fear and loss and the sinking feeling that Merlin probably never knew how important he was to Arthur.

When Arthur heard the dawn chorus begin, and saw the sunlight creeping along his floor beneath his windows, he knew that he would not be able to sleep any more. He rose from his bed, and dressed himself.

He was early: too early. Breakfast wouldn't be sent up for two hours yet, and Arthur could hardly sneak into the kitchens and steal himself some: he was too old for that. Besides, he wasn't hungry. He considered going out to train, but then realised that he was supposed to train the knights later that morning. It wouldn't do to be training them whilst exhausted. Arthur considered option after option, but could think of nothing to do with himself but pace his room and think of Merlin.

Arthur held out for about an hour before he cracked, and went to see Merlin. He only meant to ask Gaius for an update, but when Arthur knocked on Gaius's door there was no response. He gently opened the door, and was greeted with an empty room. Reasoning that Gaius would be delivering tonics or collecting herbs, jobs Merlin usually did, Arthur decided to wait for Gaius here.

Arthur waited for ten minutes, before a sound from behind Merlin's door put him on edge. It sounded like... well, it sounded like a foreign language. More importantly, though, it sounded like Merlin was awake! All thoughts of waiting for Gaius abandoned, Arthur rushed through Merlin's door and sat himself down in the wooden chair, prepared to listen.

He remembered Gaius's warning, but dismissed it: surely Merlin knew that he could trust Arthur? Besides, if Merlin woke alone, and nobody explained, he might panic. No: somebody should be there.

For the first time, Merlin was restless in his sleep. He kept speaking, but Arthur could not make out the words. They sounded foreign and shapeless, so he assumed that Merlin was just talking nonsense – as usual, he added mentally, but Merlin was not awake to share the joke. Was this a change that meant he ought to look for Gaius? Arthur glanced around nervously: to fetch Gaius would be to admit that he had gone against his word, if Gaius could even be found. But what if Merlin needed him?

Arthur perched on the edge of Merlin's chair, indecisive. Gaius had said this was a magical ailment, that Merlin was trapped inside his own mind. Surely there was nothing a simple physician could do, then? And Merlin was clearly agitated: Arthur was reluctant to leave his side.

"Merlin?" he queried, shaking his friends shoulder. Still clinging to the hope that Merlin would just wake up and everything would be fine, because otherwise he didn't know what he would do.

Hadn't Gaius said that Merlin would seem to be sleeping peacefully? Surely – did Merlin speaking aloud mean there was hope? That Gaius was wrong, that the spell was something different, something weaker? That, somehow, Merlin was one of those rare cases who would eventually wake and recover?

Arthur sat in that chair, intently watching Merlin and listening to his intermittent gibberish, trying to work out the puzzle. But after just under an hour, the puzzle solved itself, because Merlin's eyes opened wide and he shot up, sitting up suddenly in his bed with a shout of pain.

 

\---

"Arthur, you're alive!" Those were the shocked words Merlin spoke upon first waking, relief clear on his face. Arthur felt a little smug at that: Merlin's worst fear was Arthur dying? Touching, very touching. He made a note to tease Merlin about it later, and suppressed the wave of affection for his ridiculous manservant that threatened to choke him for a moment.

"Yes, Merlin, I'm alive. Don't move." With Merlin reassured, Arthur stood up, meaning to go and fetch Gaius to tell him the good news. But Arthur rising from the chair seemed to awaken some strange panic in Merlin, who reflexively moved away, and seemed to shrink before Arthur's eyes.

"No! I mean, Arthur, please, let me explain." There was such a wild desperation in Merlin's eyes, Arthur couldn't help but remain frozen in position as Merlin poured forth his words at an incredible pace.

"You can't kill me, please – you need me – I'm sorry. I swear, you have my absolute loyalty, please don't – Morgana's coming, I thought she already – but it's back now Arthur, I can stop her, and I will, I swear! You just have to trust me,  _please_." When Merlin finally stopped, it seemed as though this was because he had run out of air, rather than words. He looked almost ready to begin again, but Arthur spoke first, keen to stop Merlin before he revealed any more details of his nightmare. Arthur had no business knowing unless Merlin wanted to tell him _after_  he understood his situation.

"Calm down, Merlin, it's alright. I'm not going to hurt you." Arthur spoke clearly and firmly, determined to set Merlin straight, and the surprise on Merlin's face was heartbreaking.

"Gaius, my mother, did you-?"

"They're both fine; you have my word. You have my absolute trust, Merlin, and I would never do anything to harm you or your family."

Merlin faltered, confused. "But - Lancelot and Gwaine, you already - I remember, you said you couldn't accept my –"

"Shut up, Merlin. I'd never - that's not a memory. It was just a... like a nightmare. You didn't do anything wrong: the opposite, in fact. You were cursed. We were hunting yesterday, and there was a sorcerer, and the curse was meant for me. But you woke up, and I think that means it's over."

Merlin leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and running one hand through his hair. "It's over," he repeated numbly.

"Gaius wasn't sure you'd ever wake, so I have to go and tell him now. Wait here, I'll find him and then we'll be back here soon."

Merlin nodded distractedly, and as he looked around he seemed to register for the first time that he was in his own room. Arthur left to fetch Gaius, his chest swelling with the happy knowledge that Merlin was alive.

It was only later, when Merlin was safe and well and confined to his bed for the day just in case, that Arthur realised the importance of what he had learnt. Merlin had believed that Arthur was about to kill him, had already done many terrible things, and still: he had been glad to see Arthur alive, he had declared his absolute loyalty, and he had intended to defend Arthur against Morgana (although how he thought he would have a chance was a mystery to Arthur).

Merlin refused to speak any more of what he had seen, what he had believed, and Arthur could allow him that. Even Merlin didn't know Arthur's worst fears, although Arthur imagined he could guess fairly accurately. Arthur allowed Merlin his secrets, his occasional lies (and Arthur  _could_  tell that Merlin often lied) because he trusted him, and knew that the depths of Merlin's loyalty to Arthur knew no bounds.

Merlin deserved such loyalty in return. Arthur made a silent promise to himself that he would prove himself worthy of Merlin's loyalty, that he would endeavour to be as good a – dare he say it,  _friend_  – to Merlin as Merlin had been for him.

 

\-------

Merlin was stunned by the number of people he spoke to on the day he woke. He had known he had friends - but never before now had he realised just how  _many_ of the people in Camelot were important to him. More surprising, though, was how many of them thought he was important in return.

First there was Arthur. Arthur the prat, who threw things and laughed loudly and - he'd known, he'd  _known -_ he'd been so terrifying and full of hate - and then he'd been  _dead_ , and when he saw him Merlin had been so full of fierce relief and burning fear and desperate hope and he didn't know it was possible to  _feel_  this  _much -_

Merlin's heart was racing long after Arthur had left, and he muttered to himself, trying to assess the situation. "It's over. Arthur doesn't hate me." Then, with a strange jolt of disappointment, "Because he doesn't know me."

Arthur didn't take long to return with Gaius, who looked absolutely exhausted, Merlin realised with a twinge of guilt. Gaius felt Merlin's pulse (racing) and forehead (sweating) and pronounced him healthy but stressed, and advised him to stay in bed. And with that, Gaius was gone.

"Man in there with a broken leg," Arthur jerked his head towards the door behind him. "Gaius wouldn't have left you otherwise. I gather him and Lancelot had been taking shifts in case you woke up, but then Gaius had an emergency, so you got me."

Merlin nodded. Gaius must have known that he'd panic - he'd come so close to revealing his magic when he woke up. But Arthur wouldn't know that, and there was some hidden insecurity in the way he was talking.

"Thanks for being here," Merlin smiled.

He'd hoped that would be the end of it, but Arthur evidently had more to say.

"Merlin - about that curse -"

"I'd rather not say."

"And I'd rather you let me finish my sentence before jumping to conclusions and interrupting me. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, of course not. Just don't - I thought you were going to  _die_ , Merlin, and there was nothing I could do - I was - Don't do that again."

"What? Interrupt you?" Merlin asked, trying to look earnest but breaking into a smile when he saw the frustrated look on Arthur's face.

"Shut up,  _Mer_ lin." And it was strange that this was what got Merlin, because the last time he'd heard Arthur say his name like that -

The momentary fear must have shown on his face, because Arthur had switched from irritated to concerned in a fraction of a second. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Merlin reassured him, reluctant to explain his flash of memory. "Just need some time."

Arthur looked at him searchingly for a few seconds, before concluding, "You'll be alright. You're always strong, when you have to be."

"Oh, you have no idea."

"Well, like I said; don't feel the need to tell me if you'd rather not. And do let me know if you need time off or anything - I won't have it said that I worked my servant to death."

Usually, this would have been the time when Arthur left. But Arthur stayed beside Merlin for a good part of the morning, mocking him and acting insulted and (thankfully) avoiding the subject of what Merlin had seen. The conversation was meaningless but friendly, and when Arthur finally left to train the knights, Merlin was grinning widely and couldn't help but suspect that Arthur was congratulating himself for having achieved this.

Next came Gwen, who fussed and smiled and offered to get him things, soon followed by Lancelot, who was quiet and apologetic and asked if Arthur knew now. Then Gwaine, who said that Gaius had confiscated the mead he'd brought but that he did at least have some cake. Then there was Mary from the kitchens with the latest news and some lunch, and Jack from the stables with some bawdy jokes, and a seemingly endless parade of worried friends.

It wasn't until late afternoon that Gaius finally came back, closing the door behind himself quietly. He came over to where Merlin was sitting up in bed, and felt Merlin's forehead. "You'll be fine," he pronounced.

"Good to hear."

"What do you remember?"

"Burning. The curse - like dark fire. Then... Arthur finding out. Everyone I care about dying. Being executed for my magic. Then I woke up, and I was with Arthur."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there, Merlin," Gaius began, wringing his hands.

"It's fine; I panicked a bit but Arthur explained everything. It's not like I revealed myself."

"But it was close. You know I never would have forgiven myself if -"

"It's  _fine_ , Gaius. Really. From what Arthur said, I was at death's door with no cure. Was it something magic that you couldn't tell Arthur about?"

"In a way. There is no external cure to the curse, but you cured yourself."

Merlin raised an eyebrow at that, and suppressed a snigger at the glimmer of pride that appeared in Gaius's eyes. "I cured myself?"

"The curse is not designed to kill sorcerers, Merlin. The energy expended on the additional cruelty of the visions means that the part of the curse which causes death is not particularly strong magic; that's why its use is so rare. Someone as powerful as you... if you recognised the curse for what it was, you could counter it with your own magic, and escape the prison it had trapped you in."

"But... I never worked it out. I thought it was all real - I mean, I didn't want to believe it, but I  _did_. I thought the curse had taken away my magic."

"Did you try to use magic anyway?"

"Yes... I was thinking about escape - do you think that's what did it?"

"Almost certainly. Now, get some rest; I'll be back with dinner in just a moment."

At the thought of his cooking, Merlin made a face at Gaius's retreating back. For a moment, he allowed himself to drift into a dream world, where he had finished that sentence:

"But - Lancelot, Gwaine, you already - I remember, you said you couldn't accept my magic."

"You have magic?"

"I -? What?" Merlin would panic even more, but Arthur wouldn't look angry; he'd look excited, and once he'd explained about the curse, he'd have questions.

"Merlin, that's... was it you? The immortal army?"

"I didn't send them, of course not -"

"No, idiot. I mean did you stop them?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"Brilliant. How did you do it?" And Arthur's face would be shining with curiosity, not burning with hatred, and Merlin would tell him that secret, and all the others, and he'd hear them eagerly. And Arthur would accept him and keep his secret, and the two of them would be side by side until Merlin had the face of Dragoon the Great (and Arthur would laugh so much at  _that_  story).

But no. Not yet. Arthur didn't know him,  _couldn't_  know him, because although Merlin had concluded that Arthur wouldn't hurt anyone else, wasn't that cruel, he still didn't know what Arthur would do with him. He might arrest him, or kill him himself, or send him back to Ealdor: he might even accept him. But Merlin couldn't be sure, and he wasn't about to risk destiny for the sake of his feelings.

For now, Arthur didn't hate him. Arthur didn't want Merlin to die for him (as if that would stop him.) Arthur would never admit it, but Merlin was his  _friend_ , and, for now, that was more than enough for Merlin.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by something I saw on Bradley James' Twitter:
> 
> @BradleyJames I had a dream of you the other night and you were being a miserable git in it! I hope youre keeping well! x
> 
> Definitely a dream & not a memory @whatsamadder. I've never been miserable when you've been around. #Fact


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